More than a week after the devastating rains and flash floods of August 25–26, Jammu remains trapped in a humanitarian and civic emergency of staggering proportions. The fury of nature has been compounded by the paralysis of administration, leaving entire mohallas buried under layers of muck and debris. Low-lying areas such as Peer Kho, Gujjar Nagar, Rajinder Nagar, Lajpat Nagar, and Gorkha Nagar present a grim picture of destruction. Homes are filled with mud, essential belongings lie in ruins, and helpless families are left to claw through the filth with bare hands in the absence of even basic support. For the people struggling to survive, the true tragedy is not only the destruction wrought by floods but also the indifference that has followed.
Streets remain clogged with mud and stones, cutting off access to several localities. Food packets distributed by volunteers and officials, though welcome, are no substitute for comprehensive relief. Survival itself is becoming a daily battle in the absence of water, power, road clearance, and sanitation measures. With households stripped of essentials, children sleeping amid squalor, and families huddled in half-broken structures, what Jammu faces today is not just an aftermath of floods; it is a disaster layered upon disaster. More alarming still is the looming threat of a public health emergency. Stagnant floodwater mixed with sewage is fast turning into a breeding ground for disease. Health experts have already raised red flags about the possibility of cholera, diarrhea, and other waterborne infections spreading rapidly through the affected mohallas. Yet, no organized medical camps or vaccination drives have been initiated. The absence of preventive measures is inexplicable at a time when sanitation is deteriorating hour by hour. The people left behind in flooded neighborhoods are now at the mercy of a ticking health time bomb. Political representatives are scrambling to the Jammu Municipal Corporation for urgent help, but piecemeal measures have yielded little. The civic body, already overstretched and under-resourced, cannot be expected to manage a disaster of this magnitude on its own. The goodwill of NGOs and citizen groups is praiseworthy, but it cannot substitute for the organized machinery of the UT. What is needed is extraordinary and coordinated intervention by the Union Territory Government. All available resources, such as mechanical equipment for debris clearance, additional manpower, emergency funds, and specialised medical teams, must be pressed into service without delay. The immediate priority must be restoring road access, clearing clogged drains and streets, and resuming essential water and power supply. Simultaneously, mass sanitation drives need to be launched to minimise the risk of disease outbreaks, alongside round-the-clock medical camps equipped with vaccines and emergency medicines. This is a moment that calls for urgency and scale, not a routine bureaucratic response.
The people of Jammu deserve more than platitudes and sympathy. They need decisive action, comprehensive planning, and visible governance on the ground. Every passing day of inaction deepens the misery of thousands who have already lost everything. At stake are not merely homes and possessions but human lives. If timely intervention is delayed any further, the disaster of August will not be remembered for floods alone; it will be remembered for the systemic failures that turned natural calamity into human tragedy.